


new romantics

by osmia



Category: Dance Academy
Genre: Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmia/pseuds/osmia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1981, and Lucy wishes her best friend would stop using the dressing room as her own personal piercing parlour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	new romantics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [st_aurafina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_aurafina/gifts).



> I searched and rewatched, but could not for the life of me find Grace's mother's name, so I took some liberties!

“Jesus, what is that?” The entire bench is covered in blood-spotted tissues, with Marie perched on a stool alongside, one hand clutched tight against the side of her head, the other fiddling with the ribbons of her pointe shoes.

“I pierced my ear.” There is a note of triumph in her voice. Judging by the mess, Lucy thinks perhaps it isn’t undeserved, given the apparent battle. “Can you shut the bloody door before some idiot gets lost and dobs me in?”

“You’re the idiot; you’re dancing tomorrow! And the next day! What if it gets infected?”

Marie scowls. “It wasn’t this bloody when my sister got hers done at the chemist.” One shoe thuds to the floor. “Anyway that party in Glebe is tonight and I thought it would look a bit wicked, but-”

She gestures at the bench.

"Yeah, well this is a dressing room, not a chemist." Rolling her eyes, Lucy reaches into her bag, hand shuffling past her own pointe shoes, and pulls out a bandaid. “Let’s start with this. Let me see.”

“You’re wasted on ballet Lucy; you should be in medical school,” Marie says as Lucy patches her up, pierced ear twitching as she talks and a safety pin twinkling in the light from the bulbs around the mirrors.

“Ballet’s wasted on you, you punk,” Lucy retorts.

“Excuse me, I’m a new romantic, thank you. Now please tell me you’ve got hairspray in that bag.”


End file.
